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Serbia

When I think of Eastern Europe I think of painfully beautiful lithe young men with carefree attitudes about the adult film industry, engaging in gloriously erotic scenarios that have turned them into gay celebrities across the globe. The Bel Ami boys, for example. You can pop into a café from Chelsea to Castro and engage in a discussion with a complete stranger on the subject. Conversely, I’ve come to think of aggressive homophobia and street beatings tacitly condoned by the Serbian Orthodox Church. I’m guessing their dogma leads its followers in prayer, something to the key of, “Dear Jesus, beat them. Amen.”